


Ich Habe Einen Plan

by RedGriffin



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anonymous Sex, M/M, Prostitution, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 11:21:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedGriffin/pseuds/RedGriffin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A brief meeting between two strangers late at night, and what it means to them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ich Habe Einen Plan

It was a clear night, with only the slightest suggestion of a breeze; the sky was clear of clouds, but most of the stars were obscured by the city lights. Charlie hunched his shoulders. He was going to get seven shades of hell from Rob when he got home, not to mention a bloody nose, but he didn’t care any more. He was seventeen. He was old enough to make his own decisions.

His thoughts were interrupted by someone appearing round the corner. As they approached, Charlie could see it was a man, probably in his forties. He was wearing a motorcycle jacket, which was partly unzipped, faded jeans, and white trainers. He was tall and skinny, with square-framed glasses that magnified his eyes, and dark brown hair that hung in his face loosely.

“Got a light?” Charlie asked. The man blinked at him for a moment before producing a cigarette lighter from his pocket. “Thanks, mate. You want one?”

He offered the packet to the man, who hesitated for a moment before taking one.

“ _Danke_ ,” he said quietly, lighting Charlie’s and then his own. “It’s very kind of you.”

So he was German, then. No matter. He obviously comprehended English well enough.

“Nice night, innit?” Charlie remarked.

“Mm.”

Not much of a talker. They stood in comfortable silence for some time, smoking their cigarettes and gazing up at the night sky.

“How much?” Charlie heard the man ask.

“Ten quid,” he replied. The man nodded, stubbing out his cigarette.

“Shall I pay you now?”

“Yeah.”

He pulled a wrinkled ten-pound note from his pocket and handed it to the boy.

“Thanks.”

 

The boy was quite pretty, really. Paul could go with that. He seemed young, but if he backed out, Paul could go with that too. He was a timid man by nature and couldn’t imagine himself taking someone by force. He remembered the first time he’d ever done anything like this. He had been eighteen, and clueless, and alone on the streets of East Germany with no way of making money. The first time, the guy had run off without paying him. The second time Paul had demanded payment beforehand. Of course, he’d been married since then—to a woman—but it hadn’t lasted. The band, which had formed in 1992 and been moderately successful worldwide since 1997, took up most of his time. The others knew, but didn’t really care.

“My name’s Christoph.”

“Jamie.”

Paul knew the boy’s name wasn’t really Jamie, the same way the boy knew his name wasn’t really Christoph, but neither cared. The boy took his hand and led him across towards a bus shelter. The overpowering stench of lager and stale urine was blown into Paul’s face by a sudden gust of wind and he resisted the urge to gag.

“I usually go behind here. It ain’t perfect, but it’s out of sight.”

Paul allowed himself a small smile. Once safely hidden between the high wall and the bus shelter, with thick bushes on one side of them to conceal them further, the boy produced a condom and a small packet of lube, holding them out expectantly. Paul took them from him and, almost as an afterthought, kissed the boy gently on the lips. He was relieved at the lack of resistance.

“It’s been a while since I did this,” he murmured. They both knew that was a lie, too, but again, neither really cared.

 

It was quick and messy, but neither Charlie nor the man cared. He was surprisingly gentle, taking it slow at first so he didn’t hurt the boy, and Charlie had to coax him to speed up.

“ _Schätzchen_ ,” he moaned softly. “ _Ja_. _Das ist gut_ …”

Charlie didn’t quite understand all of it, but that didn’t matter. So far the shelter was still deserted, and he wasn’t being too loud.

It was all over in between five and ten minutes. They stood upright and hastily pulled their jeans back up, each avoiding the other’s eyes.

“Thank you,” the man said quietly.

“Welcome.” Charlie grunted.

“You’re quite lovely, you know.”

Charlie looked up in surprise.

“Am I?” he asked stupidly. Even in the dim glow of the streetlights, he could see the man blush.

“ _Es tut mir leid_. I don’t know where that came from.”

Charlie had to stop himself from grinning.

“You’re alright, mate.”

They parted then, the man heading one way, Charlie heading the other. It was a mile to home, but he didn’t mind. He liked walking alone. It cleared his head and gave him a chance to think. With each step he took, the image of Rob, his enormous and constantly enraged stepfather, grew clearer in his head. Rob standing outside his bedroom, beefy arms folded, a look of rage on his perpetually red face.

Charlie tried to drive the image from his head. Instead, he thought about ‘Christoph’ (of course, it wasn’t his real name, but it wasn’t Charlie’s business to ask). He was…different, in a weird way. Charlie knew he’d probably never see him again, and he would have been a complete fucking idiot to think it was love, but he hadn’t felt the same numb indifference about the German man as he did about most of them. If a guy ever told Charlie how pretty he was (and he _was_ pretty, there was no doubting that—his curly golden locks and bright blue eyes made him look positively angelic, and there were times he envied his older stepbrother, Joe, who was tall and wiry and tough and had spiky dark hair and threatening dark eyes), he normally felt a bit creeped out by it. But with the German…

Charlie sighed. It was probably just stress of school and home getting to him and making him emotional, or some bullshit like that.

He hunched his shoulders and continued towards home.


End file.
